Lepcis Magna
by DJ Ultima
Summary: When the snow falls, you haunt my dreams. Your name I've forgotten, but your faces stays with me.


1/13/06

"Lepcis Magna"

Disclaimer - all I do is write fanfics. Nothin' else.  
Rating - R  
Warning - nothing, really...Enjoy!

How long have I been down here?

It seems like it has been ages…although, since this place is timeless, I can't be sure.

The air is cloying and rancid, and the only sounds to be heard are cries of agony. Above are the wondrous upper levels, pristine and white. Great statues pay homage to the unholy ground they are rooted in.

But I am not lucky enough to be on one of the upper levels. No, I exist in a place where the light does not touch, far below the ones who mock the land of the angels with their false purity. This place is…dark. It is far below even my master's lair. Only the most cruel, most foul demons are kept in this prison. Is that what I've become? I'm not sure anymore.

I train day in and day out. Each day that passes causes me to lose a little more of my humanity – not that I mind. Destroying the weaker part of me is my goal, is it not?

It's so dark. I rarely see my own face in the mirror anymore. The light above…it bothers me. My armor guards me from the worst of it, but then, I only see red. Is it my own blood? Or the light filtering in? I feel little pain anymore, so it's hard to tell if I'm bleeding or not these days. Come to think of it, I don't feel much of anything anymore.

Except…except…the sun. And anger. But perhaps they are not separate. Perhaps the fire of the sun and the fire of my rage are one and the same. It's difficult to tell. My memories are few.

But…there is a person. I see him in my dreams. But only now. Only at this time of year, when my master tells me that the snow is falling on the human world again. A year?

How long have I been down here?

My master enjoys the snow on the human world. He says it reminds him of how fragile those creatures are – how they must hide away whenever the cold comes in. I enjoy the snow as well, though I'm not sure why. I haven't seen it in such a long time, but my attraction to it remains. Every time I think of the snow, I think of that man. The face that haunts my dreams when the snow falls…I wonder…does that man know me? The look on his face is so sad, and I feel as if he calls to me.

White hair, blue eyes, a deadly blade on his back, but his name…that I cannot remember. As with my own name. My master has named me anew, but I still long to know my former identity – before I became a soldier, a knight. That man knows my name; that I am sure of. But I feel as if I have changed. Would he even recognize me now?

I long to meet this person of my past.

As I travel up to my master's chamber, I secure all of my armor plates. The helmet goes on last, creating a seal for both my body and my demonic powers. I don't need to see to put my suit of armor on anymore. I have long since memorized where everything in my small chamber resides, and can easily navigate the long staircase to the middle levels and equip my plates at the same time.

I open the ebony door, narrowing my eyes and bracing myself for the searing burn of the light. It hits me like a wave of fire, but I forge on, not wanting to be late. Master would punish me for taking his time for granted. The chamber isn't far from here, and I leap easily from pillar to pillar, past the great heart and the pulsating flesh walls. They almost seem to reverberate in my presence.

Strange that my master would choose to reside in the middle levels. I was under the impression that the most powerful demons stayed in the lowest levels of Hell.

The portal to the hall is enormous, but so is my power. I push through it, straining to keep my head forward as another, brighter wave of light washes over me. As I approach the great throne, a deep ringing courses through my head. It is the power of Master, and he seems pleased to see me. I bow down on one knee before him, inclining my head for just a moment in respect, and then turning my gaze to the colossal statue before me.

"Rise, my darkest knight," his impossibly low voice rumbles.

I do so, and he proceeds to go through some unimportant details of how the rest of Hell above me is dealing with day to day existence. It does not interest me, and I simply wait for my next orders. I am probably to quash a renegade group – a lowly demon's task, not mine, but I suspect that my master is slow to trust me. I do not know why, and he seems to derive amusement in hiding the information from me.

I listen with half an ear as I am ordered to, indeed, destroy a rebel faction. He tells me the location, and I sigh inwardly. The upper levels. Not only are my talents being put to waste, but my master wishes to send me to a place worse than the most hellish training session. I nod curtly, and turn to leave.

"This task is in your hands, my darkest knight…Nelo Angelo," he calls out after me, and I think I detect a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

The battle is quick, and the corpses are plenty. I scowl at the victims, disappointed in their weakness. Although, I have to give them credit for leading me on a chase to the highest plane of the Underworld. I turn my gaze upward, noting the portal to the human world high above me. Although it is invisible on their side, humans have been known to fall into this gate before. It is the most closely linked gate between the two worlds, after all.

As I stride away from the massacre, something catches the edge of my crimson vision. Something white.

I reach my armored hand out slowly, catching the delicate, pure snowflake on my gauntlet. It is perfectly formed, making a unique star shape on my fingertip. I marvel at its purity – its true, untainted beauty. Compared to the false angels and mocking holiness of this place, it is an emblem of perfection. I turn to the portal once more, and notice the tiny flakes drifting down to the ground.

I wonder if he is up there, in that world of beauty. The man I have dreamed of for every snowfall may be up in that place…waiting for me…

Pain…I have not felt that in a long, long time. I can feel a painful tightness in my chest, and it confuses me. At first I think that it is anger, but…no. I glance down at the snowflake again, and think of how similar it is in color to that man's hair.

The pain returns.

Odd.

That night, I have the same dream that I always have when the snow falls. The river is flowing fast, but I am moving far faster. I'm exhausted, but I continue my battle. The person I am fighting is powerful, and he matches me move for move. It always takes a moment for my eyes to focus, and I suddenly realize that it is him. He's young, but his hair is platinum white and his eyes are icy blue. He lunges at me with an oversized sword, and I counter with a thin katana.

Blue. The sleeve of my coat is blue. I see that as I slash at him. He is wearing a red trenchcoat, but no shirt. He has a powerful body, and I can see every muscle strain as he fights me. I briefly wonder why we are engaged in combat, but the thrill of a worthy opponent is too much to deny my bloodthirsty soul.

Thrust, parry, block, thrust.

We move in an ongoing dance of death, and then…

Nothing.

I am falling away from the man, and he has that saddened look on his face again. It is with this expression that I know him best - a face filled with longing and depression.

He's trying to save me, I think.

I awake with a start. Instinctively, I can tell that it is nighttime, even for the demons. Yes, even we have our quiet hours. Now without my armor, the chill of the underlevels seeps in even more. I sit up straight on my spot on the hard floor and I reach out a hand, grasping the heavy cloak that I don when I'm unarmored. I wrap it around my nude frame and put the hood up. It is my only protection against the cold…and the light.

Drawing myself up to my full height, I pace the room, the stone floor chilling my feet. I know exactly how many steps it takes to get from one side of the room to the other, and I absently count them off as I ponder my dream.

That man must be someone important, and with each year that passes, his face fades a little more in my memories. Soon, I'll forget him completely.

I wonder if I'll finally stop dreaming then.

Do I really want that to happen?

I halt my steps for a moment, pondering this. It takes me a moment to realize that my hand is wrapped around the amulet hanging from my neck. I glance down in surprise at the unconscious gesture.

Somehow, I think that this is someone I do not want to forget.

In that moment, I make my decision. I'm going to find him. I will find the man with the snow white hair and the winter blue eyes.

Wrapped in my heavy robe, I stride over to the door, touching the metal bars lightly to open it. Without so much as a glance backwards, I silently leave my cell and ascend the underlevels. As I approach the doorway to the middle levels, I can feel a few stray beams of light slipping through the cracks and spreading their warmth over me. At this distance, the radiance is almost pleasant. However, once I open the door, the searing heat comes forth.

I draw my cowl about my body even tighter, taking care to pull the hood down more to shield my eyes. Without my helmet, the red tint in my vision is absent and I have little to filter the harsh white glow all around me. Nevertheless, I squint my eyes and move along to the even brighter upper levels.

Surprisingly, I am not stopped or questioned as I journey upward. Perhaps the soldier demons patrolling the areas sense my power. Although I have left my blade safely within my cell, I am still a force to be reckoned with.

At last, I reach the gate where the snow was seeping in. A few flakes are still making their way in, and I wonder what the human world must look like at this time. I suppose I'll find out soon enough.

With a gentle nudge on my demonic powers, I vault upwards and through the hellgate to the human world.

The first thing I notice when I enter the human's realm is how cold it is. I'm standing barefoot in a shallow pile of snow, but I am used to such conditions. Besides, after living – could my day to day existence be considered living? – in the freezing bottom depths of Hell for so long, I feel very little of anything…even the cold of the place I am in now.

My second impression is that it is pleasantly dark in this world. Tall lights line the streets near where I have emerged, and the poles they are attached to are wrapped in colorful, glittering material. Bows of red and green line the entranceways to various establishments across the street. I look around more. It seems as if I have come out at a small, currently deserted park.

I tilt my head back and take a deep breath. The air is clean and crisp here – so unlike Hell. The night sky is peppered with jewel-like stars, and I find it beautiful.

Finally, I begin to explore the area around me, taking care to stay in the shadows. Some distance away, there are humans gathered in a large group. They are at the end of the street, and their laughter and chatter would indicate that they are having a celebration of some sort. Underneath several tents, a man and a woman are giving out a hot drink to those who approach them. Nearby, a large table is filled with festively wrapped packages of all shapes and sizes. The light is quite harsh over there, so I do not wish to interact with the humans.

Still, I continue walking towards them, wading through ankle-deep snow. I step with the grace of a warrior, silent and deadly. Combined with the safety of the shadows, the humans do not notice as I pass them by. They are not important to my objective, which I only have a limited time to complete. If Master realizes I am gone without his permission, I will receive a punishment most cruel. My master is unforgiving to those who disobey him.

I reach out with my senses, trying to locate the man who haunts my dreams. I'm not entirely sure how to go about finding him, but I have faith in my abilities. My power is nearly unparalleled in Hell, so surely finding one human shouldn't be that difficult.

But what if he isn't human at all? I have never seen a human with features like his.

Regardless, I know he is here.

As I wander the shadowy backstreets, I feel a tug at my senses, and I follow it thoughtlessly. Rarely do I encounter anyone on my trek.

However…I do notice a couple together at one time. The man is smiling at the woman, and she takes his arm gently, returning the gesture. I watch as he pulls something from his pocket – a small, brightly wrapped box. The woman's eyes light up, and she waits excitedly as he hands her the gift. She carefully unwraps the present and opens the box within, practically squealing in joy as she lifts out a pair of glittering earrings. She examines them for a moment, and then quickly pulls out the studs in her ears and replaces them with the new pair of dangling jewels. The man grins widely, seemingly proud of the reaction he received. Abruptly, the woman throws her arms around the man, thanking him for the gift.

"Merry Christmas," he responds.

I take in this entire display with a straight face, although my curiosity has been piqued. These humans…their rituals are ridiculous, but, at the same token, they hold such meaning. Even if that woman is torn from that man tomorrow, she will never forget him for the gift he gave her. The same is true in reverse. The man will hold that image of the woman's happiness in his mind for an eternity. It's strange how those two have bound themselves to one another just by the simple act of gift giving and receiving.

The couple walk away, hand in hand – intertwined for years to come.

Realizing that the display is finished, I turn and continue my search through the light snowfall. I am getting closer. I can feel it. The presence seems to be stationary, making my job of finding him much easier.

My travel is taking me to a less populated area of the city. The streetlights are fewer, and the only humans I see mind their own business. There are no happy gift exchanges and no warm drinks being served to passerby. The snow has fallen flawlessly here, unbroken by human steps, although I occasionally see animal prints. Yet, even those will soon be covered by the tiny flakes drifting aimlessly from the sky.

I continue to walk, creating imperfections in the pure, white blanket of snow. It's lovely…almost too beautiful for one as dark as myself to be marring like this. However, I am a demon – a dark knight. No matter how much I may admire the simple beauty of the human world, I am sworn against it. That will never change.

I wonder…what will happen if I meet this man? Will he know me? Will he welcome me? Attack me?

…hate me?

I don't know…but I'm willing to find out. I'll deal with the consequences when I get there.

Suddenly, something glimmers at the edge of my vision. I halt my movement, peering at the source from under my hood. There's something small and round sitting atop a partially sheltered cardboard box. It's reflecting little more than moonlight, but that is more than enough to capture my attention. I advance towards the box, stopping in front of it. Carefully, I reach out a hand, plucking the object from the surface of the container.

It's a silver ring, undecorated and new. It flashes as I turn it about, looking for any sorts of engravings on the surface or the inner side. There are none. Gently, I slip the ring onto each of my fingers, and I am surprised to see that it fits my ring finger perfectly. I wonder why someone would leave such a thing outside. It seems cruel somehow. I touch the metal jewel once more, watching it catch in the moonlight.

For the first time in years, a true smile crosses my features.

It fades slowly, and I pick up the trail again, feeling as if the presence is very close.

Sure enough, when I turn the next corner, a bright neon sign fills my vision. I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the glare until they more or less adjust to the sight. I finally lower my hand, examining the red lettering before me.

_Devil May Cry._

How very odd.

I can tell that this is where the man is. There is no doubt in my mind.

Suddenly, the door begins to open, and I use my lightning fast reflexes to dart into a corner. My cloak makes me blend in admirably with my surroundings, and I move the hood ever so slightly to see who is exiting the building.

A woman. She is wearing a short skirt with a leopard print on dark pink. Her shirt is long sleeved, and is a shade or two darker than the skirt. A pair of tall boots completes her ensemble. The young lady's hair, tinged pink on the ends, is tousled as if…ah, I see. She is a prostitute. She stuffs a few bills into her purse and slowly saunters off, staggering a bit as if drunk.

What sort of man am I going to meet?

I wait for her departure, and then rise up, keeping against the building warily. I turn my head to look into one frosty window.

The sight is nothing spectacular. It is a fairly bare room. A desk sits in the center, and a door is nearby. A staircase leads up to a second level. The only decorations on the wall are certainly not seasonal ones. Demon skulls are pinned in place, and other "war trophies" are nearby. I feel as though I should be offended…but I'm not.

What catches my attention the most, however, is a large sword hanging over a poster of a scantily clad woman. Some part of me…recognizes that blade. It is different from the one the man wielded in my dreams, but at the same time, it seems very similar.

A door opens on the second level, and I draw back slightly.

It is him.

The platinum hair hangs over his face as he turns his head down. He is zipping up his pants, and it occurs to me that this must have been what that woman was leaving from. As he finishes, he shakes his head to rearrange the unruly locks. Casually, but staggering a bit, he descends the stairs and sits gracelessly in the chair behind the desk. The man seems oblivious to anything around him as he puts his feet up and twines his hands behind his head, exposing his bare torso and face more clearly.

He is unique – unlike any other human I have ever seen. And yet…he spends his holiday buying himself love. How pathetic.

How…disappointing. I suppose I shouldn't say that, being a demon, but it is how I feel on this matter. I was expecting this human to be a noble, wondrous creature, but…he has failed me. Perhaps I should give him a chance to redeem himself.

Fluidly, I stride to the door of his establishment, entering the building without a single break in my step. The freezing soles of my feet hit the wooden floor lightly, and I find the warmth coming from the planks to be rather unpleasant. I would welcome the cold snows more.

The man's eyes are trained on me now, and even in his drunken state, I can see them narrow thoughtfully as he examines his newcomer. I move with purpose until I am directly in front of his desk, taking care to keep my hood down inside this lighted building. Through a single fold in the cloth, I can see him. For a long moment, he just stares at me. I hold my tongue, wanting this strangely enigmatic man to make the first move.

That he does.

"Need the can? It's in the back," he informs me.

"That is not my objective," I respond quietly, my voice deep and ragged from rare use.

"Oh? You here for a job, then? Sorry, I don't work holidays," he says sarcastically.

"You will tell me your name."

"…Dante," he says carefully, taken aback at my command.

"What is your objective, Dante?" I continue.

"Hey, you took the words right out of my mouth," he responds, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "What's it to you, anyway?"

"You have brought light into a dark world. I must know why."

"So…you don't know my line of work, then? In that case, you may as well leave. Don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."

"You will answer my question, human," I insist, unmoving.

"Human? Don't make me laugh. There isn't another 'human' like me out there," he retorts. "If you must know, I take on…special jobs. I'm your friendly neighborhood devil hunter. Minus the first two parts."

"Why do you fight, devil hunter?" I question further, not completely satisfied with that answer.

"For the past. Something was taken from me, and I'll be damned if I don't get my revenge."

I remain silent for a moment. I think I am finally beginning to understand why this man earned a place in my dreams all these years. Underneath his worn, careless exterior, he has a determination that even my master could admire. In a way, I almost hope that this man is sent to Hell upon his death. I imagine he would be a worthy comrade and opponent for me. How I would await that day…

"I see," I respond softly. "You have proven yourself, Hunter Dante."

"Huh?" he asks drunkenly.

Reaching inside one sleeve, I tug at the silver band on my hand. I take a moment to examine the featureless ring, and then set it gently on the man's desk next to a damaged glove. Old blood is dried along a slash line.

"This…consider it a token of our meeting," I tell him, and he blinks once in confusion. "It is all I have to give you, devil hunter. Take it and remember this night, for we shall meet again one day."

With that, I turn away. My concerns have been addressed. I need no more.

"You gonna tell me your name?" he calls out after me.

"My name…" I begin, "…is unimportant."

"Figures," he says with a sigh.

"Dante?"

"Yeah?"

"Merry Christmas…"

After that night…I stopped dreaming of that man.

Only the snowfall keeps his memory now.

End 1/15/06

Hope you enjoyed that. It's my first submission to so I hope I'm doing this all right. Please tell me if I have done something wrong, as I would be very appreciative. Other than that, I hope (I'm saying "hope" a lot, aren't I?) you enjoyed my story!


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